


Bedroom Hymns

by Amjead



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Death in the last chapter, Dirty Talk, Johnlock - Freeform, Light BDSM, Lingerie, Multi, Power Bottom Sherlock, Stripper Sherlock, Suicide, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2344133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amjead/pseuds/Amjead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dr. John Watson moves in with the mysterious Sherlock Holmes, a chain reaction is set into motion. Now his life has been changed forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, after I wrote a big ol' Torchwood fic, I thought I'd write a big ol' Sherlock fic. I spent a lot of time on this one. So, I really hope you like it. Feel free to follow me on tumblr: followallthefandoms

After living together for about a week, there were a lot of things that Dr. John Watson still didn't know about his flatmate, Sherlock Holmes. For example, he didn't know what Sherlock did for a living.

When John asked what profession he was in on the day they met, Sherlock simply said, “Specialized business.” and dropped the subject. That was fine, but John was still confused by what he meant. The only thing that John knew about Sherlock's job was that it required him to carry a suitcase back and forth and that it kept odd hours. Sherlock would leave the flat late in the evening and wouldn't return until sometime after John had gone to sleep.

Speaking of the suitcase, that was another thing John didn't know about his flatmate. What was in that thing? Sherlock caught John looking at it once and he barked at him to leave it alone. Whatever was in there, it seemed to be quite the berserk button for Sherlock. John knew that it was his private property, but that didn't mean the curiosity wasn't killing him.

A third mystery with Sherlock had to do with a chemistry set. John had discovered from day one that his flatmate had a brilliant mind and a penchant for chemicals. Sherlock was always doing some experiment with his chemistry supplies in the kitchen.

John had asked him once what he was doing, but Sherlock simply replied with, “Classified.” If John could say one thing about Sherlock, it would be that he was quite the enigma.

All of those things were for another time though. At the present moment, John was having an awful day. His work at the surgery was grueling and taxing. On the larger scale, John loved being a doctor, but there were days when he just wanted to let his patients fade into darkness and to live out the rest of his life in a void of nothing. This was one of those days. 

When John arrived back at the flat, he heard Sherlock banging around in his room down the hall.

“What the bloody hell is that man doing?” John thought to himself. He was sore and felt a headache coming on. Now was not the time to be bothered by Sherlock's eccentricities. John Watson needed a strong drink. He opened up the refrigerator to see if anything was in there. Sitting on one of the shelves was a smallish, green wine bottle with no label.

“When did we get this?” John wondered. “Sherlock must have gotten it,” he decided. He uncorked it and smelled the bottle's contents. It was a very strong red wine. “I'll just have a taste,” thought John as he filled a small glass.

John sat in his chair and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't half bad, but John could sense a change in his mood after taking just that one sip. He felt immediately tipsy. Also, he was suddenly aware of a warm, tingly sensation in the pit of his stomach. John had definitely had this feeling before. He was getting aroused, but why?

Just then, Sherlock came into the living room with his suitcase. He sat it down by the door and began furiously looking around for something. He bent over to look under a nearby coffee table and John got an eyeful.

“Whoa,” John thought. “Sherlock's got a nice rear.” Once John realized the thought that just passed through his head, he became very confused. Why had he thought that? It wasn't like he was attracted to Sherlock. What was going on?

The confusion didn't matter because John had accidentally stolen another glimpse of Sherlock and that bizarre feeling of arousal reared its head again. Unfortunately, John had the misfortune of not being able to keep his thoughts inside this time.

“Sherlock, you've got one hell of an arse,” John slurred. This random declaration caught Sherlock off guard. He stayed absolutely still for a moment. Then, he grabbed a nearby roll of tape, which was what he was looking for, stood up, and turned around to look at John.

“What did you say?” Sherlock asked.

“What? I didn't say anything,” John stammered quickly. 

Sherlock observed the obvious blush on John's cheeks.

“You are undeniably aroused,” Sherlock said evenly. John stammered. He wasn't sure of what to say. Sherlock cautiously stepped in front of John. Then, he crouched down so they were eye level. Suddenly, John was captivated by Sherlock's eyes. He had never noticed before how beautiful they were, a lovely blue-green. He had an overwhelming desire to kiss him. 

“You drank some of what was in that wine bottle, didn't you?” said Sherlock. John nodded dumbly, unable to make words. How did Sherlock know? Anyway, he looked over at John's glass.

“Well, you only had a little,” said Sherlock. “The effects should wear off soon enough.”

“Effects?” repeated John.

“I'm off to work,” said Sherlock. With that, he picked up his suitcase and vacated the flat. John was left sitting there, feeling like he needed a wank.

The next morning, John awoke with a blinding headache and a foggy memory.

“I've got a bloody hangover,” John thought. “Did I really drink that much last night?” He stumbled downstairs and saw Sherlock standing at the kitchen table, pouring over half a dozen test tubes. “Morning,” John grumbled.

Sherlock looked up and said, “Your eyes are so blood shot. I can't believe how hungover you are.”

“Neither can I,” answered John. “I don't remember much of anything from last night. Did I do anything embarrassing?”

“You complimented my backside,” said Sherlock dryly.

John blushed and stammered out an apology.

“Oh. Oh my God. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't believe I said something like that to you. I've never been that kind of drunk. Honest. That's really weird. Did I drink a lot? I feel like I must have.” Sherlock reached behind himself and pulled John's small glass out of the sink to show it to him. John was incredulous when he saw the size of the glass. “I only drank that much and I still feel this bloody awful?” he asked with much surprise. “What did I even drink last night?”

“You drank what's in the bottle from the refrigerator,” said Sherlock as he turned his attention back to the experiment before him.

John walked over to the refrigerator and looked inside. He saw the bottle with no label.

“Oh yeah,” John thought. “I remember this now.” He closed the door and turned back to Sherlock. “That's some strong stuff, isn't it?” he said.

“It is,” agreed Sherlock.

“Where did it come from?” John asked.

“I made it,” said Sherlock.

“You made it?” John questioned.

“Yup,” said Sherlock with a pop on the final letter. John was impressed. Sherlock was full of surprises.

“What's in it?” John asked. Sherlock looked up and opened his mouth as if to say something. Words were just about to come out, but then he changed his mind. He closed his mouth and looked back down at his equipment on the table.

“Classified,” Sherlock answered instead. John was a little perturbed with this reply, but he let it slide. He would just have to add it to the list of mysteries about Sherlock.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A miserable John accidentally winds up in a strip club. While there, he sees the club's spectacular headliner. He must know more about her.

The week got progressively worse for John. It seemed like he was being run ragged more and more each day. To top it all off, he had to inform one of his patients that his test for a certain potentially life threatening disease came back positive. That was never an easy thing to do. By the time the week was out, John felt as if he had been hit by five buses.

John was sitting in his usual chair in the living room, reflecting on his past week.

“And I'll be back to do it all again tomorrow,” thought John with an exasperated sighed. He looked over at the clock. Sherlock must have gone to wherever it was that he worked by now. No wonder the flat was so quiet. John felt weary, but not tired. He decided a walk would do him well. Perhaps he'd find a pub and grab a nightcap.

Now, John had only been living in this neighborhood for about a fortnight. He wasn't really familiar with the area. So, he decided that he would try whatever pub he'd happen upon first. He walked for a couple of blocks when he found himself outside of a place called, “Jim's.” John didn't know what this place was like, but he really didn't care. All of his nerves were shot. He just wanted to get something to drink.

John was only vaguely aware of the crowd around him as he crossed the room. He sat down at the bar and ordered a martini. As he waited for his drink, he looked around. There were a lot of men sitting at the tables and chairs.

"Plenty of blokes,” John thought. “I wonder why there aren't any women here.” Then, he noticed a large stage on the other side of the room. “I guess there's entertainment here some nights,” he thought.

Just then, two greasy looking men sat down near John.

One of them asked the other, “Is anyone good on tonight?”

“Sherra's got a few numbers,” replied the other man with a smile. Apparently, that was a good answer because the first man got a very excited look on his face.

“That's awesome,” he enthused. “I love Sherra.”

“Of course you do,” his friend replied. “Everyone does. Sherra's the best girl they've got.”

The first man nodded and said, “Maybe I'll buy a dance from her.” The other man chuckled.

“Are you stupid? You know the rules. Sherra doesn't do private dances. This one time, a mate of mine asked if he could buy one from her. I guess he got a bit too forceful for management's liking. Jim himself escorted him out.”

“Wow,” said the first man, impressed. “That's disappointing, but I guess I'm not surprised. Sherra's so gorgeous. She probably has to beat the blokes off her with a stick.”

“Yeah,” agreed his friend. “Whatever guy she's shacking up with must be a pretty lucky man.” With that, the two guys got their drinks and went to go sit at a table closer to the stage.

“Hold on,” thought John as the wheels in his head were turning. “There are no women at this place. That stage is much larger and more theatrical than any I've ever seen in a typical pub. Those two guys were talking about buying private dances from girls. Christ. I'm at a strip club.” John pinched the bridge of his nose. This was embarrassing. He was not a strip club kind of guy. “I should leave,” he thought, but just then, the martini he ordered arrived. “Well, maybe I'll finish my drink first.” 

John took a sip. The alcohol burned in the best way. He drank it a little faster than he should have. The next thing he knew, an emcee was announcing the act that was about to go on. Coincidentally, it was going to be that Sherra girl those two guys were talking about.

“I really should leave,” thought John. He was just about to go, but then, the dancer's music cued up. “Well, it would be rude to walk out in the middle of her performance,” thought John. “I'll just watch this one girl and then I'll go straight home.”

Loud music thumped through the speakers. A spotlight turned on and lit up the girl. John took in the vision of the fabled Sherra. Well, he took in as much as he could. He was sitting kind of far away from the stage. Also, a lot of the men stood up so they could see her better, but from what John could see, she was beautiful.

Sherra had long, blonde hair that was unusually flawless. Her face looked as if a true artist had sculpted it. She wore a thick, black leather collar around her strikingly pale neck. On her body, she wore a royal blue bra with two perfect breasts peeping out of it. Below, she had on a short, black tutu skirt that barely covered her pelvis. Connected to a pair of unseen panties, she wore blue garters that matched her bra. The other end of the garters attached to black fishnet thigh-highs. Completing the ensemble, was a pair of impossibly tall blue stilettos. She was so tall, but her height suited her quite nicely though. She was a statuesque beauty.

John watched transfixed while Sherra did her pole routine. She was fantastic. John could see why those two guys spoke so highly of her. She seemed as if she was flying. Also, her expression was one of control, but simultaneous submission. It was kinda hot. John decided to move closer. He just had to get a better look. 

John was able to find a spot on the side of the stage to watch. Unfortunately, Sherra was facing the other way. John watched as the men showered her with praise and, more importantly, money. The song started to wind down and Sherra made her way to the middle of the stage. As the final note of the number sounded, she went into a split and dramatically flicked her head to the side. She ended up locking eyes with John. As the men in the bar applauded, both Sherra and John's hearts stopped. They could see each other perfectly and John recognized those blue-green eyes. Sherra was not a woman. That dancer was Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim's...Y'geddit?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Sherlock is a stripper. More importantly, he's a female stripper. John needs a strong drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: This chapter is nsfw

John and Sherlock's faces matched. Their eyes were as big as dinner plates. Their mouths hung open in shock. The glass that John was holding slipped out of his hand and shattered on the floor. Sherlock stayed frozen for a few moments, but then was brought out of it by the applauding crowd. He stood up, awkwardly bowed, and left the stage. John rushed right out of there.

John raced all the way back to Baker Street. Suddenly, certain things started making sense. Sherlock had said he worked in, “specialized business.” The business of stripping certainly was specialized. He had the suitcase he was so secretive about. He probably kept that outfit in there. Jesus, that outfit. John couldn't get the image out of his head. The most beautiful woman John had ever seen was a man. On top of it, that man just so happened to be his flatmate.

“How on Earth am I going to face him now?” thought John as he walked into the flat. “I think I need another drink. Just a bit of that wine made me forget a good chunk of the previous night. Maybe a big drink of it will black out this entire evening.” John pulled the bottle out of the refrigerator and poured a very large glass for himself. “Bottom's up,” he said out loud before he drained the whole thing. Immediately, he was drunk. Also, that strange feeling of random arousal came back. John couldn't deny it. He was feeling extremely randy. So, he plopped down into his chair, undid his belt, and gave himself a good rub down.

Later, Sherlock came home. He saw John sitting in the living room, still awake.

“Oh. You're up,” Sherlock said shyly. “Listen. About tonight-” It didn't matter what Sherlock was going to say next because John had just launched himself at his flatmate and jammed his tongue into the taller man's mouth. 

Sherlock was surprised by the kiss, but he didn't resist it. Sherlock had to admit to himself that he'd been fantasizing about kissing John ever since they first met. He was just quite taken aback that this was actually happening. Suddenly, Sherlock felt something brush against his leg. He pulled away from the kiss and became aware of what was around him.

Sherlock looked down at John's building erection and asked, “Why are you half naked?”

“I was masturbating,” replied John. “I can't help it, Sherlock. I'm just so bloody horny. Do you want to know what I pictured in my head as I ran my hand up and down my penis?” Sherlock started to sputtered, but John interrupted him. “You,” he said in a near growl. With that, he leaned back in and resumed kissing Sherlock. 

Well, John attempted to resume.

John had just gotten his tongue through Sherlock's lips when his flatmate pulled back and asked, “Me? Why?”

“You do things to me,” said John. “I saw you tonight and you were the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes on. I saw you and I wanted to fuck you into next week. I wanted to pound into you until you saw stars. I wanted to make you cum until there was nothing left.”

Hearing John talk like this really did something to Sherlock. His eyes widened. His jaw slacked. His penis twitched.

“I want to fuck you,” said John. “Take me to your room. I want to have you in your bed.” Sherlock nodded and led his flatmate down the hall.

Once they had crossed the threshold into Sherlock's room, all bets were off. John knocked Sherlock down onto the bed and ripped his shirt off him. Their lips crashed together in a sloppy kiss. While their tongues were still intertwined, Sherlock unbuttoned John's shirt and slid it off his shoulders. After a few minutes of ravenous kisses, the two men pulled apart so Sherlock could remove his own pants and trousers.

The two men were facing each other when Sherlock reached out and gave John's hardened dick a pull. John sighed, exhaling right into Sherlock's face. When Sherlock smelled John's breath, he stopped.

“Wait,” said Sherlock. He gave a sharp inhale and concluded, “You drank more from that wine bottle. I can smell it on your breath. I don't know why I didn't notice it before.”

“Yeah. I drank some more of the wine,” said John, a bit slurry. “Is that a problem?”

“It is,” explained Sherlock. “It's not wine. It's perfume. I was mixing edible aphrodisiacs to make a scent that I could wear during my performances. It had to be refrigerated.”

“I drank perfume?” John questioned. “Is it toxic?”

“No,” clarified Sherlock. “Like I said, it was made out of only edible things. I guess the mixture had some of the same properties as wine. It was an easy mix up, I suppose. Anyway, I don't think we should continue with this sexual encounter.”

John was dumbstruck.

“Wait. What? Why not?” John demanded.

“You were not made aroused by your own accord,” said Sherlock. “All of this stimulation is caused by the aphrodisiacs in the perfume. If we continued, I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you.”

John chuckled.

“You're not taking advantage of me. I'm giving you permission to fuck me.”

“John, please,” Sherlock protested. “This isn't you talking. It's the chemical reaction.” John sulked, but then he had an idea.

“Hold on a minute. There's more in the bottle,” said John. “Why don't you drink some too? Then we'll both be in an altered state and nobody's being taken advantage of.”

Sherlock considered this and said, “I see what you're saying. Ok. I'll drink some too. Wait here.”

“Don't make me wait too long,” John replied. “I still want to fuck you.”

Sherlock came into the kitchen and pulled the bottle out of the refrigerator. He poured himself a glass and looked at the red liquid.

“So much for my perfume,” Sherlock thought. With that, he took a swig and felt the effects quickly advancing. “I'm going to need some things before I go back there,” he thought. Sherlock went into the bathroom and got himself a couple of condoms and a bottle of lube. Then, he quietly stumbled back toward his room. He stopped in his doorway and observed the scene before him. A naked John was lying in the bed on his stomach. Sherlock gazed at that glorious ass. So, he rolled the condom onto his erection and lubed it up. Then, he jumped into the bed and pushed right into John. The smaller man shouted at the surprise, but he moved his ass so Sherlock could go deeper. The two of them spent the night repeatedly fucking each other until they collapsed from exhaustion.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock helps John fill in the blanks.

John was awake, but he hadn't opened his eyes yet. He was vaguely aware of a dull ache in his rear.

“Why is my bottom so sore?” John thought. He buried his head into the pillow, but discovered that something was amiss. “This isn't my pillow,” he thought. “It's much too soft.” John's eyes popped open. He found that he was in the wrong bedroom. “Why am I in Sherlock's room?” he thought. Just then, his flatmate came in. When Sherlock saw that John was awake, he looked almost surprised. Then, he turned away as if he were embarrassed.

"Oh. I didn't hear you get up,” Sherlock said awkwardly. “Listen, I'll be in the living room whenever you're ready to talk.” With that, Sherlock turned and left.

“Why's he acting like that?” John wondered as he pushed the blanket aside. When John saw himself though, he gasped. He wasn't wearing a single scrap of clothing. What was going on? Why was he naked? Suddenly, John started making connections. “I'm naked in Sherlock's bed,” he thought. “My arse is sore. Sherlock's acting embarrassed and he says he wants to talk. Oh, God. Tell me we didn't. We couldn't have. I'd remember something like that.”

John tried to derail this train of thought as he went upstairs to his own room and got dressed.

“We couldn’t have. We couldn't have,” John kept repeating. Once he had proper clothes on, John came downstairs and found Sherlock sitting on the sofa with his suitcase at his feet. He had a sheepish look on his face.

Sherlock said to John, “Please sit.” John did as he was told and sat down in the chair opposite Sherlock.

The two men sat in silence for a few moments as Sherlock gathered his thoughts.

Finally, Sherlock slid the suitcase over to John and said, “Take each piece out and I'll explain.” John looked at his flatmate tentatively. This was Sherlock's secret suitcase. With all of the mystery surrounding it, and John's spotty memory of the previous night, he wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to see what was inside, but Sherlock nodded encouragingly. So, John sighed, plunged his hand in, and pulled out a long, blonde wig.

“That's my wig,” said Sherlock. “In theory, I could keep my own hair, but that short a cut would distract from the illusion.”

“I don't understand,” said John.

“Keep pulling things out,” instructed Sherlock. “I'll explain everything once you're done.” John sighed again. He knew he wasn't going to like where this was going, but he kept at it. He stuck his hand back into the suitcase and pulled out a thick, leather collar. “That's to hide my Adam's apple,” Sherlock explained. Next, John pulled out a royal blue bra and with fake breasts attached to it. “That should be fairly obvious,” said Sherlock. Then, John stuck both of his hands in the suitcase and pulled out multiple items: A pair of black panties, a black tutu skirt, and a roll of tape. “Obviously, I have to tuck,” said Sherlock. “The tutu skirt's a bit of a safety net, I suppose.” Finally, John pulled out blue garters, black fishnet thigh-highs, and blue stilettos. “That's just for aesthetics,” Sherlock said. “There's other costumes of course, but those stay at the bar. I provided this one myself. So, I take it back and forth with me.”

John stared at the items in bewilderment.

“I still don't understand,” said John. So, Sherlock filled in the blanks.

“Awhile before I lived here, I was homeless,” said Sherlock. “I was living on the streets in great need of food, shelter, and money. Well, one day, a man named Jim approached me. He told me that he had seen me wandering the streets and he thought I was beautiful. I had heard that before. There had been a lot of strange men approaching me, seeing if I turned tricks or something like that. Anyway, this Jim fellow promised me that he wasn't looking for a hook. He said he would put me up in a flat if I came and worked in his bar. I knew he sounded dubious, but I was desperate. Lucky for me, he really wasn't out to trick me. Anyway, he told me upfront that it was a strip club and that he wanted me as a dancer. I told him I couldn't. I wasn't a woman after all, but he said that I was skinny and pretty and with the right make up and costumes, anyone would be fooled. He also promised that I wouldn't have to get completely naked or give private dances. Besides, if I did either of those things, my secret would be out. The patrons would know that I was a man. So, that is why you saw me last night, dancing at a strip club under the name of Sherra.”

John's mouth hung open as he took in what Sherlock just said. Slowly, his memory started returning. He remembered ending up at the strip club and seeing Sherra and then realizing that she was actually Sherlock. He remembered coming home a drinking that wine.

“Perfume,” John mentally corrected himself. “Sherlock said it wasn't wine. It was perfume.” Then, suddenly, he remembered the context of that conversation. The memory hit John like a ton of bricks. He rubbed his eyes. “Oh, Christ,” he said out loud. “We shacked up, didn't we?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied.

“Oh, Jesus. God,” John groaned.

“Calling upon a deity won't help,” said Sherlock.

John looked up at Sherlock and glared daggers at him.

“How come you can remember last night, but I can't?” John seethed. Sherlock shrugged.

“Superior memory, I suppose,” said Sherlock. John was mad now.

“Also, how can you be so fucking calm about this?” John cried.

“There's no point in being angry about it now,” Sherlock replied. “What's done is done. It's in the past. I greatly enjoyed it. So, I'm not going to get upset about it.”

“What was that?” John asked with surprise.

“I'm not going to get upset about it,” Sherlock repeated.

“No, before that,” John clarified.

Sherlock thought for a moment and then slowly said, “I greatly enjoyed it.”

John was in shock.

“You enjoyed it?” John asked.

“Yes,” answered Sherlock. “Very much so. I didn't want to say anything, but I find you wildly attractive. I've been fantasizing about what it would be like to have sex with you and, Christ, you we're incredible. I just can't stop thinking about it. The way your eyes were blown wide with arousal. The way you moaned so obscenely. The way your chest heaved in and out. Your bottom, God, your bottom and your penis. Don't get me started on your penis. I could write poetry for days about the taste of your cum.”

“Stop right there,” John said sternly. His cheeks were going red. Also, he could feel himself getting a bit turned on. “No. Not now,” he thought. “This isn't supposed to happen. I'm not supposed to actually be attracted to Sherlock.

“I don't see why you're so bent out of shape,” said Sherlock.

“I'm bent out of shape because I wasn't supposed to fuck you,” John shot back a little louder than intended.

“But you did fuck me!” Sherlock shouted.

“Shh!” John hissed as he walked toward Sherlock, closing the gap between them. “Will you lower your voice?” he asked. “I don't want the landlady to hear about our sexual exploits.”

“Her name is Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock replied. “You've been living hear for two weeks, John. You should know her name by now.” 

“That's not the point,” said John. “The point is that I wasn't planning on sleeping with you.”

“And yet you did,” Sherlock answered. John was loosing his patience.

“Look,” John said firmly. “I've never been attracted to a man before. I've never ruled out the possibility of being bisexual, but it's an idea that I'm not used to. I never in my wildest dreams thought that we would end up going to bed together. So, this is a lot to take in. Do you understand what I'm saying?” The two men stood silently, looking into the other one's eyes. As the silence continued, John was getting more and more aware as to how intimately close they were standing. “Sherlock?” he probed.

“You said, 'before,'” Sherlock finally replied.

John blinked in confusion.

“You said, 'I have never been attracted to a man before,'” started Sherlock. "That means you're attracted to one now which means you're attracted to me. Am I right?” John started to sputter out an answer, but Sherlock silenced him with a kiss. To his delight, John didn't pull away. He accepted the kiss and even parted his lips to let Sherlock's tongue in. After a minute or so of kissing, Sherlock pulled away. He took John's head into his hands and asked him, “Did you enjoy yourself too?” There was a pause, but John relented and nodded. Sherlock delivered a small kiss onto John's lips and said, “Then I don't see what the problem is.” He kissed him again and let go of John's head. Then, Sherlock said, “Think of it this way. You said yourself that I was the most beautiful thing you ever laid your eyes on. Well, that beautiful thing lives with you and just so happens to have the hots for you. I can hardly see why this would be such a bad thing.” With that, Sherlock gave John a wink and left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that John knows Sherlock's secret, he has a lot to deal with. Will he be able to stand the pressure?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: This chapter is NSFW

John tried his hardest not to think about that day, but it was proving itself to be quite the difficult ordeal. Every time John was alone with his thoughts, he found his mind creating a very specific picture. It would be Sherlock in his Sherra costume, but he would still look distinctly male. He'd imagine kissing Sherlock or what it must have been like to have sex with him. He'd imagine the taste of his lips, the feel of his body, the swell of his penis. John would always notice that he was imagining this too late though. He'd realize that he was fantasizing about Sherlock again and he'd already be half hard. John would try to change the fantasy, but it was a moot point. Also, the fact that John became hyper aware of Sherlock's habits wasn't helping at all. All of the normal things he hadn’t notice before suddenly became very sexy.

For example, there was one day where John was sitting in his room, reading a book, and he heard Sherlock playing the violin downstairs. There was nothing unusual about that. John had heard Sherlock play his violin many times before, but John just couldn't ignore it this time.

“I recognize this song,” John thought. “Where have I heard it before?” Then, realization hit him. Sherlock was playing the song that John saw him dance to. His breath hitched slightly when he made the connection. Even worse, hearing the song gave him an automatic reaction. His penis was stiffening. Without even really noticing it, John started pulling on his dick and really getting into it. He was just about to cum when he realized that he was masturbating to Sherlock again.

There was another instance where John was passing Sherlock's bedroom on his way to the loo. Sherlock had just gotten out of the shower a few minutes ago and had forgotten to close his bedroom door. As John walked by, he caught Sherlock inspecting himself in the mirror with just a towel wrapped around his slender hips. John was immediately captured by Sherlock's lean frame. His torso was absolute perfection. His skin was so pale, he looked like a marble statue. The only color on his chest came from his nipples which John observed to be quite rosy. Perhaps they were even a bit more pigmented than most people's. His chest went in and out with his breath hypnotically. Then, John noticed Sherlock's stomach. It was completely flat and muscular.

“Oh, how I wish I could remember what sex with that body was like,” John thought absentmindedly as a prickly sensation pooled between his legs. 

“I know you're there,” said Sherlock. John was immediately pulled out of his stupor. Sherlock turned to look at his flatmate who appeared as if he was a deer in headlights. Then, Sherlock lowered his gaze and it landed on John's tented trousers. He licked his lips, but didn't say anything. John, who was totally overwhelmed, quickly shut the door and marched straight for the loo. He needed a long shower.

There was one time, however, that was the last straw for John. About a week after the initial encounter, John was returning to the flat after a walk. When he came in through the front door, he heard music.

“Sherlock must have the stereo on,” John thought. “How odd. I've never known Sherlock to actually listen to music on that thing.” 

When John opened the door to the flat, he had to contend with quite a shock. Sherlock was in his Sherra costume, minus the wig and collar, and kneeling on the ground. He was leaning back quite far with his head thrown back and his arms stretched up in a high, “V.” The look on his face could only be described as simply erotic. When he saw that John was there, he picked up a small remote beside him and turned the stereo off. “Oh. You're home," said Sherlock as he started to blush.

“I was just practicing a new routine. I wanted to see how it would feel in the costume. I figured that since you already knew my little secret, you wouldn't mind so much if I practiced at home.”

John stared at Sherlock. His eyes were blown wide.

“John?” probed Sherlock. Well, that was just about enough.

John walked over to Sherlock, put his hands on his flatmate's shoulders and said, “Well, since you're already down there, we might as well.” Sherlock took the hint and smiled wickedly. He undid John's belt, pushed the trousers and underpants down and began furiously sucking John's dick.

“Oh, God, yes,” John moaned. “Finally.”

Sherlock pulled off of John and said, “I don't know what took you so long to give in. We both knew that you wanted this.”

“Shut up and put your mouth back on my cock,” John ordered. Sherlock's lips twitched in arousal.

“Yes, Sir,” Sherlock said a near octave lower as he returned to the reddening dick before him. Sherlock found that he liked being ordered around. 

John closed his eyes and cried out, “Keep going. Keep going. More. Oh, God. More!” Sherlock sucked as hard as he could. Soon, John was cumming into Sherlock's mouth. He swallowed and then stood up to kiss John. They stayed in their passionate kiss, completely engrossed in their lust for each other. 

“I think that was the greatest blow job I've ever gotten in my life,” admitted John when they finally pulled apart. Sherlock blushed at the praise. Then, John said, “It makes me so angry that I blacked out having sex with you.”

Sherlock gently kissed John on the cheek and whispered in his ear, “Would you like me to help you remember?” John grabbed the back of Sherlock's head and pulled him in for another kiss.

“I would love that,” John growled. His arousal was returning. Perhaps a second round?

“You'll have to catch me first,” Sherlock teased. With that, he ran out of the room and made his way to the stairs.

“You git,” cried John with a laugh. He started to chase after him and he called out, “Once I catch you, I'm going to fuck you till there's nothing left.” Sherlock ran into John's room. His flatmate tackled him and they fell onto the bed together.

“Fuck me till there's nothing left, will you?” questioned Sherlock. “I rather like the sound of that.”

“I bet you would,” said John as he bit and sucked on Sherlock's neck. “This is mine now,” thought John, feelings possessive of Sherlock's body. “Christ. What have I gotten into?” That mental question was going to have to wait though. Right now, John's thoughts were getting drowned out by Sherlock's obscene moaning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, now that Sherlock and John have an open, honest, and (most importantly) sexual relationship, things are going to go smoothly. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: This chapter is mildly nsfw

This became the norm for John and Sherlock. They found everything they ever wanted in a sexual partner in each other. In fact, they even got to a point where they were a bit insatiable. John and Sherlock would have sex up to three times a day, everyday. It was just so easy for things to escalate between them. Sherlock was almost always in the mood for being fucked and John just couldn't say no to him.

In addition to the shagging, Sherlock had picked up some other dirty little habits. For example, he now had a tendency to walk around the flat, utterly nude. He'd dramatically stretch out on the sofa or make an over-exaggerated bend to pick something up. At first, it would really get John going, but now he was used to it. It was still erotic, but John was at the point where he could do something innocuous like hand Sherlock some mail while his flatmate teasingly stroked himself.

When Sherlock discovered that his rampant nudity had less of an effect on John, he switched up his methods. Specifically, he had taken up sexting. There would be times when John would be at work and he'd receive a text message.

“ _I'm so horny. I wish you were here to fuck me. ~SH_ ” 

Occasionally, pictures of Sherlock's erection would accompany these little messages. While they were making it difficult for John to concentrate on the task at hand, he was grateful for these perfectly marvelous little distractions.

There was one time, however, that John and Sherlock's little escapades go them into a bit of trouble. John was on his way home from work. He was sitting in the back of a cab when he got a text from Sherlock.

“ _I'm completely naked and my wrists are cuffed together. I'm half hard just thinking about what you're going to do to me when you get home. Please hurry. My dick is red, swollen, and dripping. I think I need a doctor. ~SH_ ”

John exhaled sharply. Yowza. That was some text. This cab couldn't get him back to Baker Street fast enough. Thinking about a cuffed Sherlock was really getting him hot and bothered. When he finally came through the front door, he was so turned on already that he started unbuttoning his shirt.

“I hope you're ready for me,” said John as he opened the door to the flat. He didn't get an answer though. To John's shock, when he opened the door, there was another man sitting in his chair.

Sherlock was on the sofa, naked and cuffed just as he said he would be, but with a folded newspaper residing on his lap to cover is penis. He looked distinctly annoyed. Whatever was bothering Sherlock didn't matter to John right now because there was a strange man in a well-tailored suit sitting in his chair and drinking tea. Anyway, as John entered the flat, this man looked up from his cup.

“Ah, you must be the flatmate,” he said casually.

“Uh, yeah,” said John with caution. “Who are you?” 

The man evaded the question.

Instead, he asked, “You two seem to be carrying on a funny little life here, aren't you? I came into this flat expecting to find Sherlock in the kitchen with an experiment or something like that, but no. He was sitting in the living room, wearing nothing but handcuffs. My, my. One can only wonder what it is you two do behind closed doors.” The man smirked, but John had enough of this.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked. “Who are you and how did you get in here?”

“I got in because I know where the spare key is,” said the man evenly. “No need to worry, Dr. Watson. I was merely checking up.” He turned to Sherlock and said, “Nice to see you again. Maybe next time you'll have enough decency to dress.” Sherlock didn't say anything. He didn't even move. With that, the man stood, crossed the room, and shook John's hand. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Watson,” he said. He was almost out of the flat's door when he stopped. “Oh. I almost forgot to ask you something,” he said to John. “Do you always go to work with your shirt unbuttoned?” John was embarrassed, but he didn't let it show. The man smirked again, said, “Never mind,” and left.

As soon as John heard the front door shut, Sherlock groaned.

“Thank God he's gone,” said Sherlock.

“Who the hell was that?” asked John.

“I thought that was obvious,” said Sherlock. “Couldn't you see it in the eyes? He's my brother.” John was shocked.

“Your brother?” John repeated.

“Yes,” Sherlock confirmed.

John took a moment to digest this and then said, “He looks nothing like you.” Sherlock shrugged. 

“I'm surprised he was so calm about your current state of dress,” said John gesturing to Sherlock's body. He just waved it off though.

“He's seen worse,” said Sherlock.

John nodded and then said, “I think I'm more surprised by the fact that you even have a brother.”

“Oh, really?” questioned Sherlock. “Lots of people have brothers. Why would it surprise you?”

“Well, you told me that you were living on the streets for awhile,” explained John. “Why didn't you go to your brother for help?” Sherlock scoffed like a huffy child.

“I would never ask Mycroft for help.”

“Mycroft?” repeated John.

“That's his name,” clarified Sherlock. “Who names their kid Mycroft?” John thought. “Probably the same people who would name their kid Sherlock,” he reasoned.

John had another question.

“So, your brother, does he, uh, does he know that you, um-”

“Dance with Sherra?” Sherlock supplied.

“Uh, yes,” said John.

“I'm not sure.” answered Sherlock. “I've never told him outright, but he has a way of finding things out.”

They were quiet for a moment, but then Sherlock said, “Is there anything else you need to know?”

“No. I'm fine,” answered John. “Do you still want to, um, have-”

“Not particularly,” interrupted Sherlock. “Mycroft has left me feeling rather turned off. Maybe later. The key's on the table beside you. Will you unlock me?” John picked up the key and released Sherlock from his bindings. Then Sherlock stalked off to his room without saying another word. John just stood there awkwardly with his shirt still undone.

As John fastened his buttons, he thought about his relationship with Sherlock. It certainly was odd. Even referring to it as a relationship was odd. It wasn't like they went out on dates or anything. John had asked Sherlock if he wanted their situation to be a more public thing, but Sherlock quickly shut that notion down. Sherlock wasn't really the, “boyfriend” type. He was more the, “fuck-buddy” type. John didn't exactly mind this, but he missed the more simple aspects of being in a romantic relationship. He couldn't even remember that last time he went out on a date.

“Who knows?” thought John. “Maybe I'll just have to take some girl out and get Sherlock a little jealous.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's unexpected visit has caused John to think about the lack of stability in his relationship with Sherlock, but that's a problem for another time. Right now, however, John decides he wants an assistant at work.

Sometime later, John decided that he wanted an assistant at work. He needed someone to do secretarial and receptionist things. So, he put an advert in the paper. A couple of days later, he received an e-mail from an applicant. John reviewed her resume and it was good. She fit the bill of what John was looking for. He called her so they could schedule an interview.

Before John hung up, he asked, “Could you remind me of your name again?”

“Certainly,” she answered. “Mary Morstan.” Within the week, she was working for John.

After a few weeks of having Mary in the office, John started to notice something. He was getting a little bit of a crush on her. He looked forward to seeing her each day she was in. She had a knack for bettering his mood. She was like Sherlock's complete opposite. She was bright and cheery whereas Sherlock was dramatic and mysterious. Mary was the day to Sherlock's night.

Anyway, one day at the surgery, John started to mentally wrestle with the possibility of asking Mary out on a date.

“I should,” John thought. “I haven't been out on a proper date in a while. I miss it. I'd like to get to know Mary better. I think a date would be a wondrous idea.” 

John was set in this decision when suddenly he thought to himself, “But what about Sherlock? I know we're not in an exclusive relationship. I wouldn't even call what we're in a relationship at all, but he would get so jealous. I still can't even think about what happened with Sarah. Maybe a date with Mary wouldn't be such a good idea.” 

Then, John's thoughts changed again.

“This is bloody ridiculous. Whether or not I go on a date with Mary is none of Sherlock's business. He's not my boyfriend. He's just a, um, friend with benefits I guess. There's no reason that I can't go on a date with someone and continue sleeping with Sherlock. Wow. That was a weird thought.”

Now that John's mind was made up, he acted on it.

Before Mary went home for the day, John called her in and asked, “Are you doing anything Friday night? I was thinking maybe we could go to dinner and the cinema. Unless you don't want to, of course. Getting asked out by your boss is probably a weird thing.” Mary smiled and laughed.

“I'm grateful for the invitation,” said Mary. “I'd love to go on a date with you. Is seven all right?” John grinned from ear to ear.

“It's just fine with me,” said John.

“Perfect,” replied Mary. “I'll see you then.” John was very please with how this turned out.

“I'm so excited,” John thought, but then he mentally added. “I think it's probably for the best if I don't tell Sherlock about this.”

Friday night rolled around and John was trying to think of a way to escape Sherlock. He sort of wished Mary had suggested a later time so that way he could leave after Sherlock had gone to work, but he was just going to have to figure something out. However, that was no easy task. John was in his room, looking through the clothes in his closet when Sherlock waltzed in. He plopped down onto John's bed and started scheming.

“I'm not going out until later tonight,” Sherlock said in a slightly teasing tone. “We should do something fun before I go. I'm feeling adventurous tonight.” John chuckled.

“You're always feeling adventurous,” said John. Sherlock shrugged.

“I just like to keep things interesting for you. Anyway, I was thinking I could get out the leash. We tried that once, remember? If my memory serves me, you liked that.”

Before Sherlock could go any further, John stopped him.

“Not tonight, Sherlock,” said John. “Maybe some other time.” Sherlock was quite surprised by this. John never refused him. What was going on?

"Is something wrong?” asked Sherlock.

“No,” said John. “I just don't want to have sex tonight. Is that all right?”

“It's fine,” said Sherlock quickly. “It's just that you've never declined from sex. I guess I'm just not used to it.”

“Yeah. Well, you're hard to say no to I guess.”

Sherlock watched John scan through his closet.

Then, Sherlock asked John, “Are you going out tonight?” There was silence.

Finally, John said, “Yes.”

“Oh,” said Sherlock quietly. “With whom?”

“A friend,” John answered. “It's no one you know. So, it wouldn't matter if I told you who it was specifically or not.” John was hoping that Sherlock would drop it, but he didn't.

“Is it a date?” Sherlock asked.

“No,” John lied. “Why didn't I tell him the truth?” thought John immediately. “What does it matter?”

“That's good,” said Sherlock in a casual way. He got off the bed and stood next to John. “I'd be very jealous otherwise.” He kissed John on the cheek and left the room.

“Oh yeah,” thought John. “That's why I lied.”

Anyway, John went on his date and it went well. There were also subsequent dates. They really liked each other. John found Mary to be very easy to talk to. Now, John could talk to Sherlock about things, but not in the same way that he could talk to Mary. Sherlock always seemed too melodramatic or too high above everything. It wasn't that Sherlock didn't care. He was just too much sometimes. Mary, on the other hand, was perfect. She was always down to Earth and very caring. John felt like he could tell Mary anything. 

In due time, John told Mary all about his life, like his time in the army, his medical discharge, and his eccentric flatmate. Mary took a special interest in that last part.

“Tell me more about your flatmate,” Mary said one night.

John immediately thought, “What's to say? He's a stripper and I fuck him nightly.” Obviously, John didn't say that out loud. Instead, he merely replied with, “He's pretty hard to describe. I don't think I could even if I made an attempt.”

“Well, I'll just have to meet him for myself then,” said Mary.

John tried his best to hide the panic from his face.

“Oh, you don't want to meet him,” John said awkwardly.

“Why not?” asked Mary. “I think it would be a great idea for us to meet. Besides, I'd like to see where you live.” John tried to stammer out a rebuttal, but then Mary said, “Isn't that a normal thing for girls to do? Go to their boyfriend's place and meet their flatmate?” 

John's brain short circuited, but it was the good kind of short circuit.

“Boyfriend?” John repeated.

“Yeah,” replied Mary. “That's how I think of you. Is that how you think of me?”

“What? Of course,” said John. “Of course I think of you as my girlfriend.” He smiled and chuckled. “It's just a little odd to hear it get said out loud. I haven't been anyone's boyfriend in awhile.”

Mary returned the smile and said, “Well, that settles it then. I'll come over Saturday afternoon to meet your flatmate. We'll all have lunch.” John was going to argue, but a decision had already been made and he knew it.

“Christ. What am I going to tell Sherlock?” John thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Mary wants to meet Sherlock. What's John going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: This chapter is nsfw

The next morning, John came into the kitchen to find Sherlock drinking a cup of tea.

“Good morning,” said Sherlock. John mumbled a reply as he looked away distractedly. “Something's on your mind,” Sherlock observed. “Did you have a nice night out?” he asked. John nodded. “That's good to hear,” said Sherlock. “I had an ok evening, myself. I miss you when you're not here before I go to work. I wanted to have sex before I left. I find that a preemptive shag puts me in the right mood.” John didn't say anything.

After a few more moments of silence, John finally piped up.

“Listen, Sherlock. I've got something to say. You see, the thing is-”

“You've been going out on dates with the same woman for quite some time now. You see each other often enough that she regards you as her boyfriend. You feel the same way about her. Now she wants to come here and meet me. Am I right?” John stared at Sherlock in amazement.

“What? How did you know all that?”

“I'm not an idiot, John, and I'm most certainly not blind,” replied Sherlock haughtily. “Now for the real question. Why did you lie to me?”

John was embarrassed. He took a few moments to collect his thoughts.

Then, he said, “I knew you'd be jealous. I didn't want to say anything to you about it because I didn't want to hurt your feelings.”

Sherlock took a slow breath and then said, “You're right. I am jealous, but that doesn't make it justified. You're a grown man, John. Despite whatever it is that we have, I can't hold you back from choosing to be in a normal relationship with someone. Lord knows I don't want to be taken out on any dates. If this is what makes you happy, so be it. You deserve it.”

John was shocked by how well Sherlock was taking this.

“Hold on a minute,” said John. “You're fine with this?”

“No, but it's none of my business,” Sherlock admitted.

“You're being surprisingly civil, especially considering what happened with Sarah,” said John.

“That was different,” said Sherlock. “Sarah was terrible for you. I can tell that this new girl makes you quite happy. What's her name?”

“Mary,” John replied.

“Ah,” mused Sherlock. “I'll be a good boy for you and Mary and I'll hold my tongue.”

“Good,” replied John. Then, he added on, “Um, I probably don't have to tell you this, but don't tell her about our little arrangement, ok?”

“Oh, I see,” said Sherlock. “This is one of those, 'I'll date my girlfriend, but still fuck my flatmate' kind of things.”

“I didn't know that was a thing,” said John.

Sherlock laughed and said, “It's like the plot to a bad comedy. You'd better stock up on condoms. Speaking of condoms, have you slept with her yet?”

John blushed.

“Yes. I have,” John confessed. Sherlock smiled slyly.

“Who do you prefer to fuck, me or her?” Sherlock asked.

“I'm not going to answer that,” said John. Sherlock took this as a challenge. He slid behind John and wrapped an arm lightly around his flatmate's chest. The other arm was stuffed into the front of John's pajama trousers.

Sherlock kissed John on the cheek and said, “If you're not going to answer then I'll just assume that you prefer to fuck her. You have my forgiveness, but not my blessing. I guess I'll just have to prove to you how good I can be.”

John rolled his eyes. It was just another morning with the occasionally hyper sexual Sherlock. Granted, John was getting quite aroused though. Sherlock always had that effect on him.

“You're quite feisty today,” John commented. “Usually you're so submissive.” Sherlock's submissiveness was actually quite funny. He always let John have his way with him, but Sherlock knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

“Don't you worry about that,” Sherlock hissed. “I'll be a good little boy for you. You'll see.”

Sherlock took his hands off of John and wandered over to the sofa.

“It's a shame that I have this jealousy problem,” said Sherlock. “It's my only vice really.” John chuckled. Sherlock had a couple of vices that he could think of. “I guess you'll have to do something about it,” Sherlock continued. With that, he bent himself over the sofa's armrest. “Spank me, Sir,” he commanded. “Teach me a lesson.” Well, that did it for John. He could never resist spanking Sherlock.

John walked up behind Sherlock and delivered a spank onto his still clothed rear. Sherlock flinched, but he made a sound that suggested enjoyment.

“Chastise me, Sir. Spank me again,” said Sherlock. John grabbed a fistful of curls and pulled Sherlock's head up.

“Who said you could speak?” John asked in a husky voice. Sherlock panted. His arousal was through the roof.

“Sorry, Sir,” Sherlock said with a wavering voice. “I've been a naughty boy. Please punish me however you see fit.”

John let go of Sherlock's hair and his flatmate repositioned himself to be bent over the sofa once more. Now that John's hands were free, he could remove his pajama trousers. Good thing he slept commando. He brushed his erection against the curve of Sherlock's ass. With his left hand, he gripped Sherlock's hip. With his right, he pumped Sherlock's hard on. The taller man moaned and bucked his hips.

“You're so worried that I'll like shagging her more than you,” said John in a low voice as he gave Sherlock's dick a pointed squeeze.

“Oh, God,” Sherlock groaned.

“I'll tell you one thing, though,” said John. “She doesn't scream like you. Nobody screams like you. God, it's so erotic.”

After a minute or so of jerking, John said to Sherlock, “I can't believe how hard you are right now. I'm not even in you. You're so eager to please me that it's working you up into a frenzy. I bet you just want me to fuck you, right?” Sherlock didn't answer. “Right?” John repeated more forcefully as he gave Sherlock's ass another spank.

“Yes, Sir,” said Sherlock quietly. “Please fuck me. Use me. Make me cum all over and then have me lick it up. I want to moan your name until I forget my own. Whatever will please you is whatever I'll do.”

“You jealous little thing,” mused John. “Get dressed. I've had enough of this.”

This surprised Sherlock. John was really going to deny him this? He thought everything was going how he wanted it to. Sherlock was going to protest, but John shut him up with another spank before he could.

“I'll tell you what," said John. "If you behave when Mary comes to visit, I'll fuck you so hard that you'll see stars. We'll do all the thing that you like to do. I'll leash you. I'll cuff you. I'll make you cum so hard you'll black out and then you'll beg to do it all over again.”

Sherlock moaned.

“Please. Please, Sir,” Sherlock begged. “I'm going to burst. Just one little push. That's all I need.”

“Jerk yourself off,” said John. “I'm not fucking you until I see that you can be a good boy for Mary. I think it's significant punishment for you being an envious bastard.” Sherlock nodded. He didn't like how this turned out, but he was just going to have to accept it. He tugged on his erection and was cumming in seconds. John watched Sherlock reach his orgasm with hungry eyes.

“Yep. This is totally normal,” John thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who learned some formatting...:-D


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Mary meet. Will he be able to behave himself?

That Saturday, Mary arrived promptly at noon. John greeted her at the door with a kiss on the cheek.

“Hello,” John said warmly. “Please, come in.” As they walked up the stairs to the flat, John began to panic. “This is a bad idea,” he thought. “I've never seen Sherlock be nice to anyone before. He's going to frighten her away. Oh, God. What am I going to do?”

John opened the door and let Mary into the flat. Sherlock was waiting for them. As soon as Mary stepped over the threshold, Sherlock rose from the sofa and went to shake her hand.

“Ah, you must be Mary,” Sherlock said in a friendly manner. John was quite surprised. “I'm glad that we can finally meet.” said Sherlock. “John has told me so much about you. Only good things though, of course. Actually, from the way John speaks so highly of you, I'm quite surprised that we haven't met sooner.” 

“I feel the same," said Mary with a chuckle. "I've been wanting to come to see John's flat and meet you for awhile now.”

“Is that so?” asked Sherlock. “Tell me, John. Why have you not allowed this introduction to take place before now?” Sherlock made a face that was full of teasing. John replied with a warning look. Luckily though, Mary hadn't noticed either of these expressions. She was too busy taking in the flat.

“How lovely,” Mary enthused.

“Yeah,” replied John. “This place was just Sherlock's initially. Now I'm here to help pay the rent. I was really fortunate to have found him. I like living here.”

“I'll say,” Mary agreed. “It must be nice to live right in the center of London like this. It's so posh.”

“Thank you,” said Sherlock. “It wasn't easy securing this place, but my job has allowed me a few comforts.”

“So, what is it that you do?” Mary asked.

“Specialized business,” answered Sherlock as he had done numerous times before.

“What does that mean?” Mary pressed.

“Oh no,” thought John as his heart sank.

John started to mentally panic, but then Sherlock said, “Clients come in with rather clear intentions of what they want and I give it to them.”

“Oh. So, like sales," Mary said.

Sherlock smiled and said, “Yes. Exactly like sales.”

John started to relax, but then Mary asked, “What do you sell?”

John's panic started to rise again, but Sherlock saved face once more and said, “Whatever the client wants.”

Mary nodded and, thankfully, dropped the subject. Then, she noticed the chemistry set in the kitchen.

“What's all that?” Mary asked.

“Oh. That's mine,” said Sherlock. “I like to make things.”

“Fascinating,” commented Mary. “What do you make?”

“Well, it's kitchen chemistry mostly,” Sherlock explained. “I like to experiment with different edibles to see what I can come up with.”

“Have you made anything recently?” Mary asked.

“Perfume,” answered Sherlock with a slightly impish smile.

“That sounds nice,” said Mary genuinely. “Could I possibly smell it?”

“No,” answered John firmly. “Just, uh, no.”

John decided to save himself from anymore possible embarrassing situations.

“Well, what do you say?” John asked. “Where do you want to go for lunch?”

“I hope you don't mind,” said Sherlock. “I was rather hoping that we could stay here and I'd cook for you. I hope to make a good impression after all.”

“You cook?” asked John.

“Of course I cook,” replied Sherlock. “How long have we been living together now?”

“Long enough that I think I would've known by now if you could cook,” John answered.

“Well, we both work odd hours,” Sherlock said. “We don't really see each other at mealtimes. Our paths mostly cross in the night.” Sherlock's gaze lingered on John for just a bit too long. John felt that he needed to stop this before it went on for any longer.

“I think Mary was looking forward to eating out,” said John.

“I really don't mind,” Mary said. “Sherlock wants to cook for us. That's very sweet of him. I say we stay put.”

John wasn't really sure how he could discreetly refuse this. So, he relented.

“All right,” said John.

About half an hour later, Sherlock was ushering out three plates of pasta.

“How does it taste?” asked Sherlock.

“It's delicious,” complimented Mary.

“That's good to hear,” said Sherlock. “I thought I'd try a new dish today. I want to make sure it's perfect.”

“It's great,” said Mary. “I think I've had a dish similar to this before. I don't remember the name of it, but I recall that it was cooked in white wine.”

“I'll have to try that sometime,” said Sherlock. “I don't really buy white wine. I know that John prefers red. Don't you, John?” Sherlock threw a sly glance at John and, under the table, rubbed his foot against his flatmate's leg.

John pulled away and said, “I'm going to the loo.”

A few minutes later, John was done in the loo and walking back toward Sherlock and Mary, but before he reappeared in the room again, he stopped. He heard Sherlock say something that made him want to listen.

“So, do you love John?”

“I'm pretty crazy about him," Mary said after a pregnant pause. "I've been hurt before, but John's different. He really cares about me and he really listens. So, yeah. I think I do love him. Oh, listen to me. I sound like a silly schoolgirl.”

“No. You don't,” contradicted Sherlock. “You sound like someone who's happy.”

John was just about to walk in, but then Sherlock asked another bombshell of a question.

“Do you think you'll marry John?”

Oh, this was juicy. John just had to hear the answer to this.

“If he asks me,” Mary said with a chuckle.

John smiled. He had been seeing Mary for quite some time now. The prospect of getting engaged had crossed his mind a couple of times. He took this to be a good sign.

The rest of the visit went swimmingly. The three of them seemed happy and they got along well together. Soon, it was time for Mary to go home though.

“It was lovely meeting you,” said Sherlock earnestly.

“You as well,” said Mary with a grin.

With that, Sherlock went to start the dishes and John walked Mary to the door.

“Did you have a good time?” John asked.

“Yes,” said Mary happily.

“That's good,” commented John. “I was worried that Sherlock would be a git and scare you off.”

“Oh, no. Not at all,” said Mary. “Sherlock was a perfect gentleman. He was so charming and engaging. Honestly, I'm not sure why you were so nervous.”

“Normal panic I guess,” John said with a shrug. “I want everything to be perfect for us.”

“Everything is perfect for us,” said Mary. “I'll see you later, ok?”

“Ok.” said John.

Then, she turned and headed for home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock was a very good boy during Mary's visit. So, he gets his reward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: This chapter is nsfw

John went back upstairs and joined Sherlock at the sink.

“Well, Mary's just enamored with you,” said John.

“That was the plan,” commented Sherlock.

“Actually, it was a pleasant surprise,” said John with a small laugh. “I've never seen you be so cordial.”

“I wanted to show you what a good boy I could be,” said Sherlock.

John felt that tingly sensation in the pit of his stomach again.

“You said that if I behaved myself, we'd do whatever I wanted,” Sherlock continued. “Well, pull down my trousers and pants. I want to show you something.”

John's breath hitched ever so slightly, but he did as he was told. 

John pulled the clothes out of the way and gasped a little. Sherlock was wearing a cock ring and had a butt plug inserted.

“I had to do something to remind myself of the goal, but I also needed to keep it in check,” said Sherlock. “I have to be honest, being that good was exhausting. As much as I want to go all night long for you, I think I'll come undone in a mere two seconds. Oh, John. Push me to my breaking point and beyond. I want to be your little slut.”

John's arousal made him weak in the knees. He tried to steady himself by asking Sherlock a question.

“Where did you get this stuff?”

“The internet,” said Sherlock in a matter of fact way. “Where else would I get it. Regardless, we have a pressing matter to attend to. Don't we, Sir?”

John swallowed hard. Despite Sherlock being so submissive, he was definitely a power bottom. He always got exactly what he wanted. John was more or less used to Sherlock's intense sexual desires, but they always riled him up in the strangest of ways. So, John took the butt plug out and slipped off the cock ring.

“Better?” John asked.

“Yes. Much,” answered Sherlock. “Now, please fuck me.” He went the extra step and actually batted his eyelashes. John wasn't going to let this dopey flirt get to him though. Sherlock was putting him in charge and, gosh darn it, he was going to take it.

“Get naked and follow me to the living room,” said John. “I have an idea.”

Once the two men were in the other room, John grabbed a backless stool from the nearby desk and instructed Sherlock to sit on it.

“I need to get a few things,” said John. “Wait right here. Don't move.” John went down the hall to Sherlock's room, which was where they kept most of their supplies. He grabbed two condoms, a bottle of lube, and a pair of handcuffs with a long chain. “This will be perfect,” John thought as he walked back to Sherlock. “You never know what you're going to need.”

John threaded the handcuffs through the back legs of the stool and chained Sherlock's wrists to them.

“No touching yourself,” said John. “Granted, you're such a cum slut, you could probably get off without any touch at all. Anyway, I left the cock ring in the kitchen, right?”

Sherlock didn't answer. He did have to. John went out to the other room, brought the cock ring back, and slipped it onto Sherlock's stiff penis.

“Wow. That plug really did a number on you,” John mused. “I bet you're just aching to be touched. Well, you're going to have to wait. Now, I need to go get one more thing before I can start this properly. I'd like for you to close your eyes and think your dirtiest thoughts. That shouldn't be too hard for you. Just be patient.” With that, John kissed Sherlock on the cheek and disappeared into another room.

About ten minutes later, John had returned.

“You're room is such a mess,” said John. “It took me forever to find the darn CD I was looking for. Now, you have to promise not to laugh at me. I'm going to try something I've never done before.”

“I've been imagining you fucking me senseless,” said Sherlock, dryly. “I'm in no position to be laughing at you.”

“Good,” replied John with a swift lick of his lips. Then, he popped the CD into the stereo and pressed play. The song that Sherlock danced to when John saw him in the club started playing. The handcuffed man's eyes blew wide. He knew exactly what was about to happen.

John rolled his hips in time to the music as he pulled his jumper off. He glided his fingertips down the front of his chest and then pointedly undid each button. He tossed the shirt aside, walked over to Sherlock, and straddled his lap. He let his hips grind into Sherlock's groin as he jammed his tongue down his flatmate's throat.

John broke the kiss a few seconds later and said in a low growl, “I bet you want to touch me, don't you?”

Sherlock tugged on his chains in response. It was no use though. The chain was long, but not long enough.

Then, John got off of Sherlock's lap and continued with the striptease. He tantalizingly removed his belt, trousers, and pants. His erection was stiffening. He stroked it until it stood straight up.

“Oh, Sherlock,” John moaned. “I'm imagining that I'm fucking your tight hole. Oh, God. Yes. You'd be making the sweetest noises.”

Sherlock was panting my now. His penis was painfully straining in the cock ring.

“Oh, God, John,” Sherlock growled. “Please. Please. Please.”

“I'll meet you halfway,” John said. 

The next song on the CD started playing, but neither man seemed to notice. John grabbed another chair and placed it in front of Sherlock.

John sat down, spread his legs and said, “Suck it, Sherlock. You're going to have to reach.”

Sherlock didn't care though. A little pain in his back would surely beat the large pain in his dick. So, Sherlock bent down as far as he could go. He was only able to get the tip into his mouth, but that was good enough. He licked and sucked on that thing like there was no tomorrow. Soon, John was cumming across Sherlock's face. The taller man licked off what he could. 

“That's my good boy,” John panted. “You're always so well behaved.”

Sherlock groaned. He was so flushed and in pain now.

“Sir, please,” Sherlock pleaded.

“You're always so beautiful when you beg,” said John. “Well, I can't deny my beautiful boy, now can I?” John removed the cock ring and pulled on Sherlock's dick until he came. He didn't last too long.

“Oh, God, John,” Sherlock moaned as cum erupted from his penis. “That's not enough. It's never enough. I want to go all night for you. Fuck me. Fuck me again and again, Make me cum harder and harder each time. Please, Sir. Please. I want you to make me completely debauched.”

“Jesus Christ,” whispered John. He didn't have as much stamina as Sherlock gave him credit for, but he just couldn't say no to Sherlock's dirty pleas. “Fine. Come on,” he said and he led him to the bedroom for a second round.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John learns that he can't have his cake and eat it too.

John and Sherlock tumbled around under the covers for quite some time. If Sherlock could have his way, they'd spend the whole night having sex. Unfortunately for him, John did eventually have to stop.

“The sex is great, but I'm exhausted,” thought John as he looked over at Sherlock. His flatmate was laying on his back. His chest heaved in and out as his breathing slowed to normal. After a few moments of silence, John thought, “I'd better do this now.” Then he said out loud, “I think I'm going to propose to Mary.”

Sherlock sat straight up in surprise.

“What?” he asked.

“I think I'm going to propose to Mary,” John repeated.

Sherlock blinked in his confusion.

Then, he asked, “Why?”

“Well, I've been seeing her for a while now and I've been thinking about the prospect of getting engaged.” explained John. “During lunch, I heard you ask her if she wanted to marry me. I took that as a sign. I love her. She loves me. Getting engaged is the next logical step, don't you think?”

“I wouldn't know. I've never been engaged before,” Sherlock said quietly.

An awkward silence hung between the two men.

Finally, Sherlock asked, “Do you not like me anymore?”

“What? No. That's not it at all,” John defended. “Sherlock, you and I are friends with benefits. I like it like that. I like you like that, but what I have with Mary is a proper relationship. We go on dates. We have anniversaries. I don't dislike you. I don't like Mary more than you. It's just that the relationship between you and me is just sex. My relationship with Mary can grow and I'd like it to.”

Sherlock didn't say anything.

“Don't be upset,” said John soothingly. “You said it yourself. If this is what makes me happy, so be it. I deserve it, right? I know I sound like a prick, but I can't really think of a better way to describe this.”

Sherlock didn't answer. John was getting a bit nervous. He wanted to break this news to Sherlock as gently as possible, but he felt like this was badly blowing up in his face.

“Sherlock, please say something.”

“Do you still want to have sex with me?” Sherlock asked.

John was quiet as he gathered his thoughts. He loved sex with Sherlock. Sex with Mary was nice, but sex with Sherlock was a completely different experience. It was truly mind blowing.

“Well, for now, yes,” said John. “We should probably decrease the number of times though.”

Sherlock nodded.

“It sounds like Mary is going to become a more permanent part of your life,” he said. “I'm not going to like sharing you, but I'm willing to try. She makes you happy and that's all I really want for you.”

John thought that this was a very sweet thing for Sherlock to say. He could tell that Sherlock was sincere, but his feelings were still hurt. So, John leaned over to kiss him. Sherlock accepted the kiss, but didn't push for it to go further.

“If you don't mind, I'm going to sleep in my own bed tonight,” Sherlock said icily.

John was a little surprised, but ultimately, he understood.

He nodded and said, “Goodnight, Sherlock.”

Sherlock mumbled something under his breath, but John didn't quite catch it.

Within the month, John and Mary were engaged and John and Sherlock were having sex less often. Before, they were shagging up to three times a night, every night. Now, it was about three or four times a week. That was expected though, of course. John had a wedding to help prepare for. He was a much busier man now.

Naturally, John asked Sherlock to be his best man. This surprised Sherlock quite a bit to say the least.

“Why on Earth would you pick me?” Sherlock questioned, incredulously.

“You're my best friend,” said John. “Of course I'd pick you. When I get married, I want to be between the two people I love the most.”

Sherlock didn't say anything, he didn't even blink, for about two minutes. John wasn't even sure if he was breathing.

“Are you ok?” John asked.

Finally, Sherlock said, “There are about ten different responses I could have given to that last statement, but I'm not going to say a single one.” Sherlock didn't speak for the rest of the day.

The seasons changed and eventually, it was spring. John and Mary's wedding was a month away. So, John asked Sherlock an obvious question.

“Are you giving me a stag party?”

“Of course,” answered Sherlock. “I'm your best man. Why wouldn't I?”

“Well, you're not a very social person,” said John. “I don't think you even know who any of my other friends are. Also, I can't really picture you organizing any kind of event.”

“Don't you worry about it,” said Sherlock. “I've got a plan.”

Well, the day before the wedding arrived and John still had not yet had his stag party. The rehearsal dinner was over and John and Sherlock had just gotten back to their flat.

“You totally forgot, didn't you?” asked John.

“Forgot what?” Sherlock asked casually.

“My stag party,” said John, irritatedly. “You forgot. I know you did. I knew you would. It's the night before my wedding and I still haven't had my stag party.”

“I know exactly what night it is,” Sherlock said. “I waited specifically for this night. I thought that it would help me get my point across better.”

“Your point?” repeated John. “What are you talking about?”

Sherlock shushed him.

“Go sit down in your chair,” he instructed.

John sighed, but sat down anyway.

“I think it's pretty safe to assume that whatever Sherlock planned, he didn't invite my friends,” John thought. “Mike's gonna be pissed.”

Sherlock went over to the stereo and turned it on. A sexy slow jam started playing.

Sherlock walked over to John and said, “I know that most men get strippers for their stag parties. I guess you're lucky because you live with one.”

John blushed. He knew how this was going to play out. In that moment, John was very glad that his other friends didn't get invited.

Sherlock took off his trousers. He had blue panties, black garters, and blue stockings on underneath.

“Sherra's not allowed to give private dances to the men at the club,” Sherlock explained. “I thought I'd make an exception for her tonight though.” Sherlock climbed onto John's lap and kissed him passionately. He undulated his hips and felt John's erection begin. Then, he changed the motion up and started thrusting into John. The shorter man sighed in pleasure. “You like that,” Sherlock whispered into his ear. “I know you do. You have everything you need right here. I have no idea why you're marrying that woman.”

Suddenly, John's eyes popped open. He gently pushed Sherlock off of him.

“What?” John questioned weakly. “No, Sherlock. No. We can't. Not like this.” John stood up from the chair. The two men looked sad and confused, but for different reasons. “I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm sorry,” sputtered John. “Not now. We can't. We just can't.” With that, John scurried off to his room. Sherlock just stood there, feeling lost and helpless.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is John's wedding day. What will happen to our boys?

The next morning, John came into the kitchen and saw Sherlock just sitting there. He was seated at the table, staring into space. He didn't even notice John coming into the room at first, but once he was aware of his flatmate's presence, he quickly stood up and started to sputter.

“Oh. You're awake. Good. I, uh, I...,” he trailed off. Sherlock looked at John as if he was a child about to be punished by his parent. Finally, he sighed and said, “Listen. I'm really sorry about last night. I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. I feel really embarrassed. That was so inappropriate of me and I completely understand if you don't want me to be your best man anymore.”

“You're right,” said John. “That was inappropriate of you, but I feel that I'm also partly to blame. As soon as I realized what you were doing, I should've stopped you. Honestly, I shouldn't have let this go on for as long as it did, but those mistakes are in the past now.” He looked at Sherlock who continued to look rather sad. “I still want you to be my best man. Besides, it's too late now to find a new one,” he chuckled.

Sherlock laughed too, but it was a bit forced. What was said was said and there was nothing Sherlock could do about it.

Soon, the wedding was underway. John stood at the front of the church and faced the altar while he awaited Mary. As she walked down the aisle, Sherlock made a last minute adjustment to John's boutonniere. Once the flower was in place, Sherlock and John caught the other one's eye. They stared at each other just a moment too long. Before John had the chance to look away, Sherlock took hold of John's hand and kissed it. Nobody noticed it though. They were too busy looking at the bride.

The ceremony went smoothly and soon it was time for the reception. Sherlock made a heart-felt, but painfully awkward speech.

“Poor bloke's terribly shy,” John whispered to Mary.

Next, a lovely dinner was served and then it was time for dancing. The bride and groom shared a romantic first dance. Everyone applauded them when the song ended and the guests were excited to join in on the dancing.

About an hour into dancing, Mary said to John, “I'll be right back. I've got to use the loo.”

John watched her as she walked away. As soon as she was out of his sight, the song changed. It was another ballad. Just then, John felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and there was Sherlock.

“May I have this dance?” Sherlock asked.

John chuckled, but then he realized that Sherlock was serious. John gave a small nod and accepted Sherlock's outstretched arms.

“People will talk,” said John quietly as Sherlock moved him around the dance floor.

“People do little else,” Sherlock replied.

“Great," John mumbled as he rolled his eyes.

“Don't worry,” assured Sherlock. “Nobody suspects anything out of the ordinary. To them, it's a joke. It's just John's eccentric flatmate being funny.”

After that, they didn't speak another word until the song was over.

Once the song had ended, Sherlock held on to John a bit longer and asked, “Who taught you to dance like that?”

“You did,” John replied with a smile.

Sherlock nodded and said, “Goodbye, John.” Then, Sherlock disappeared into the crowd. John stood there, confused. He was brought out of his stupor by Mary putting her hand on John's shoulder.

“Oh, there you are,” said John with a relieved smile.

“I saw that,” said Mary jokingly, referring to John's dance with Sherlock. “That was just too funny. Sherlock's so weird.” She laughed and John laughed with her.

“Yeah. The weirdest,” John said distractedly.

For the rest of the reception, John just couldn't shake this strange feeling. After a while, he realized that he hadn't seen Sherlock since their dance.

John went up to Mary and asked her, “Have you seen Sherlock?”

“Janine saw him last.” Mary reported. “She said he left awhile ago.”

“He left?” repeated John.

Mary didn't get a chance to respond to John though because the head waiter had just come up to him.

“I was told to give this to you,” he said. He handed John a mobile phone. John looked at it with confusion.

“Who's phone is this?” John asked. 

“I'm not sure.” said the waiter with a shrug. “I was just told to give it to you is all."

John nodded and the waiter went on his way.

“I've never seen this phone in my life,” thought John. “I wonder who it could belong to.” John pushed a button and the screen lit up. There was a text from a number he didn't recognize. “I shouldn't read it,” thought John. “I don't know this number and this isn't even my phone.” He put the mobile down on the table and was about to walk away when, suddenly, he had another thought. “That waiter was told to give the phone to me. Perhaps the text is for me then. If that's the case, who on Earth is texting me from an unknown number to an anonymous phone? Well, there's only one way to find out.” John picked up the phone and read the message. It said, “ _Come to Baker Street. It's an emergency._ ”

John's heart sank. He tried calling the number that had texted him, but the line rang once and then went dead. John had clear panic written all over his face. Mary could see it. 

“John, what's wrong?” Mary asked.

“I have to leave,” said John. “I need to go back to Baker street.” He started to pull away, but Mary grabbed onto his arm and stopped him.

“John, you can't leave,” said Mary.

“I have to,” John protested.

“Don't be long,” Mary said a bit sadly as she let go of his arm. “We have a plane to catch tomorrow.”

“It's not until tomorrow night,” said John. “I'll be back in plenty of time.” With that, he ran out of the reception hall and quickly headed for the flat.

When John opened the door to the flat, he cried out in horror. Sherlock Holmes was hanging from a noose. He was about to cry, but then he noticed something. Sherlock was blinking and breathing. He was alive. What was going on?

“What do you think you're doing?” asked John.

“Experiment,” said Sherlock plainly.

“What the hell is the emergency then?” John questioned, getting angry.

“I can't get down,” said Sherlock casually. “I think I've lost feeling in my legs.”

John screamed, “I just left my own wedding reception because of you!”

“Yes, I know,” said Sherlock. “How very telling.”

John glared at Sherlock and said, “I should leave you up there.”

“Oh, don't do that,” said Sherlock as if he were bored. “Now, please, John. My tongue is going. Soon, I'll be of no use to you at all.”

John found a sharp knife in the kitchen and was able to cut down the rigging. Sherlock fell to the floor and ended up on his knees in front of John. He smiled wickedly and tugged on John's belt.

“My hero,” Sherlock enthused. “How will I ever thank you? I can think of one way.”

“Sherlock, knock it off,” said John, more annoyed than angry.

“Why?” questioned Sherlock as he rose to his feet, wrapping his arms around John.

“This isn't normal,” John protested.

“We've never been normal,” said Sherlock with a laugh. “Don't you know?” Sherlock kissed John and continued. “Our destinies are wound together.” As Sherlock spoke, he placed kisses all over John's body. He sucked on his neck and teased John's buttons open. “You've never felt this way about another man before. You've never even felt this way about women. Understand me, John. From the moment I saw you, I was yours and I'll remain yours forever. If I'm remembered, I want it to be because of you. From the day I met you, you were my commanding officer, my heathen idol, my fortune, and terror, and rapture. Oh, John.”

“Oh, Sherlock. I can't get enough of you,” John sighed. He had become undone. They fell onto the floor and melted away into a writhing tangle of limbs. They couldn't control their lust for each other. They never could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's little monologue at the end of the chapter is based off of passage from Kim Newman's book: "Professor Moriarty: The Hound of the D'Urbervilles


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will be the conclusion of their story?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for all the hits/kudos/comments. They mean so much to me. Feel free to follow my on Tumblr (followallthefandoms) or on Twitter (Amjead)

The next morning, John woke up in Sherlock's bed. He couldn't exactly remember how they got there, but it must have happened sometime during the night. The events of past eight hours swirled together in John's head and formed a tangled mess. He had a general memory of it all, but only certain moments remained in vivid detail. He remembered the floor, the sofa, the kitchen, and the bathroom. He remembered the handcuffs, Sherlock's butt plug, the leash, and a particularly wicked vibrator.

“When did we get that?” John thought.

John rolled over and found Sherlock staring at him slyly.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said. Sherlock's voice was sticky with sass. John groaned and sat upright. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Sherlock sat up too and cuddled up to John. “Did you sleep well?” he asked with a chuckle. “I know we didn't do much sleeping, but some must have happened.”

John didn't answer. So, Sherlock asked him a different question.

“What's wrong?”

John glared daggers at Sherlock. Did he seriously just ask that?

“What's wrong?” John repeated with annoyance. “I just spent my wedding night shacking up with someone who is not my new wife. Take a wild guess as to what's wrong.”

Sherlock chuckled again and kissed John on the cheek.

“Oh, hush, you. We both know that you'd much rather be here with me.”

“Sherlock, stop,” said John sternly. 

Sherlock withdrew himself from John and looked at him confusedly. He sat there silently as he watched John get up and dress himself. He seemed so cross.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked.

“I'm leaving,” said John. “We can't do this anymore.”

Sherlock awkwardly smiled. Surely, John was joking, right? He leaped out of the bed and went to John.

“You can't mean that,” said Sherlock nervously.

“I do,” said John with finality. “I know I've said it before, but I really mean it this time. This whole arrangement we have is done. We're not having sex anymore. I don't even think we should see each other again. Now, I need to go. Mary's waiting for me.”

Sherlock gripped John's shoulders.

“You can't go. I-” But he never got a chance to finish his sentence. John, in desperation to get away, punched him hard in the jaw. Sherlock was not expecting the blow and he stumbled backwards. He tripped over something which caused him to fall and smack his head against the bed frame. He looked up at John weakly. “Please,” Sherlock begged. 

John didn't say anything. He just left. Sherlock sat there, defeated.

Sherlock whispered to himself, “No, John. Please. I love you.” 

Soon, John was walking into Mary's flat. She was waiting for him.

“There you are,” said Mary, a bit annoyed. “I was wondering when you'd come back. Actually, I was starting to worry that you weren't coming back at all. Do you know how awful it was for me to spend my wedding night away from my husband?”

“It probably felt just as awful as how I felt not being with my wife,” defended John. “I'm sorry I wasn't here. Truly, I was. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong, but it's better now. Everything's fine. I'm here now. We're going to go on our honeymoon and we'll have a good time, right?”

Mary just nodded. She wasn't sure of what to say.

“Right,” said John. “Now, come here.” John pulled Mary into a hug.

“Everything's fine,” John kept thinking over and over. “Everything's fine.”

John and Mary went on their honeymoon and they did, in fact, enjoy themselves. The only problem was that John felt the entire time that something was wrong. He was just so distracted. Sherlock weighed heavily on John's mind. It effected him so much that he ended up forming the habit of referring to Mary as, “Sugar” during sex. He kept almost call her, “Sherlock” but he always caught himself in time.

When they finally came home, John couldn't shake this certain feeling of impending doom as he checked the house phone for messages. There was one from his old landlady, Mrs. Hudson.

“Hello, John. It's Mrs. Hudson,” she said weakly, almost sadly. “I was going to call you on your mobile, but then I realized that I didn't have the number for it. Anyway, I know you're on your honeymoon and I don't mean to bother you. It's just, when you come back, do you think you could stop by Baker Street? It's important. Thank you.”

John thought that this was odd. He never really talked to his landlady all that much. Why was she calling him? What was so important? He decided that he'd go to Baker Street, but he wouldn't tell Mary.

John arrived about half an hour later. He rang the bell for 221A and Mrs. Hudson let him in. As John walked down the hall to her flat's door, he noticed that he couldn't here Sherlock moving around upstairs.

“Maybe he's out,” thought John. “That's probably for the best.” 

Once John was in Mrs. Hudson's flat, he noticed that she looked rather upset about something.

“I wonder what's wrong,” John thought.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Hudson was handing John a cup of tea.

John, without thinking clearly, asked, “Is Sherlock in?”

Mrs. Hudson looked away nervously.

Then, she said, “I was standing outside on the front porch when it happened. I was talking to my friend, Mrs. Turner. Some people were passing by and they stopped and pointed up. They screamed. I turned to look and I couldn't believe it. He jumped. I just couldn't believe it. He actually jumped.”

Mrs. Hudson started to cry. John was very concerned now.

“Who, Mrs. Hudson?” John asked urgently. “Who jumped?”

After a few failed attempts, Mrs. Hudson finally sobbed out, “Sherlock.” 

John's heart fell. He sat there in stunned silence with his mouth agape. No. It couldn't be. Sherlock couldn't have jumped off a building.

“The funeral was yesterday,” said Mrs. Hudson quietly. “I wish it could have been after you got home, but we couldn't wait that long. His brother wouldn't allow it."

John was still in disbelief. He left Mrs. Hudson's flat. without saying another word and walked up the stairs in a daze. He still knew where the spare key was. So, he let himself in.

The flat felt very heavy in its empty stillness. John felt like the was going to throw up. Suddenly, he saw a note pinned near the window. John pulled it off.

It read, “I'm sorry, John. Don't blame yourself. Ultimately, I don't think you could have prevented this. I was always a very sick man. I guess I just hid it well. Then again, maybe you noticed before just how sick I was. I love you. Goodbye.”

With that, John broke down crying. There was no stopping him. He sobbed for a good ten minutes before he realized that there was more writing on the back of the note.

“You can have what's in the refrigerator,” it read.

John was confused, but he looked nonetheless

Inside the refrigerator was a smallish green wine bottle. John chuckled and sobbed at the same time. He picked the bottle up and strode back out to the living room. He looked in the stereo. Yep. Sherlock's CD was still in there. He pressed play, sat in his chair, and took a large swig from the bottle.

“I feel like shit and I'm drinking Sherlock's perfume again,” thought John. “This is exactly how everything started.” John began crying again.

In between sobs, John said out loud, “Oh, Sherlock. I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me...I'll be honest, I'm absolutely horrendous at endings. If you'd like a lighter Johnlock fic, I'd recommend any of my other Johnlock fics. (Specifically, I would recommend, "Smile for the Camera" or "The Dating Game.")


End file.
